Westward Bound, Day 1
Day 1, 5:59 p.m.
Six o’clock is a special time. It’s the beginning of the evening. The last possible time that someone with a normal day job could think of as “part of the work day.” If you work nights, it’s a dying-on-the-inside time. It’s the time you’re starting to lose your evening, the time the sun is leaving you, the time that everyone else is starting their nights out.
It’s turning six o’clock as I type this, 6 p.m. on a Tuesday. But the day doesn’t matter to me, because I’m on vacation. A permanent one, possibly. The beginning of my freelance career. First step: turn off the goddamn grammar checker. Second step: wonder if turning off the grammar check is unwise, as it might make my freelance editing easier. Third step: decide to write non-professional stuff in another program, like wordpad, and leave MS word for the pro stuff.
I’m sitting on a dock in Alexandria, MN, on the first day of my drive out west. Bits about Alexandria: it’s a small Minnesota town, and somewhere inside, it symbolizes what I’m choosing against by leaving now, parting myself from so many cool people and potentially rewarding relationships. Not that I’d likely ever move to a place like this (at least, not in Minnesota . . . Ashland, OR, is a different story), even if I had decided to stay, but it sorta represents what Minnesota has. Nice lakes and parks; awesome amenities like trails and green spaces; a sense of community, of home. There are signs next to the paved bike paths along the lakes and parks, that say “no motorized vehicles except snowmobiles.” It makes me raise my eyebrows, a bit, but I frickin’ love that. There’s so much snow here (or was; global warming, etc., etc.) for so much of the year that they put up signs saying, essentially, “Snowmobile all you want, this way!” More observations: this lake is so ridiculously stocked with fish that one leaps up for bugs somewhere very close to the dock, say within 50 feet, every 10 seconds or so. I’ll grant you that they’re a little wary; they waited until I sat down and began typing to really start jumping. But when the fish are almost willing to jump into my hands and I’m just sitting here, I gotta imagine it’s pretty easy for a kid to catch some sunfish for his dad to clean and cook. And that’s just damn cool, the idea of a kid being able to help feed his family, gaining the confidence that comes with it. Last bit: There’s an empty jewelry box here at the edge of the dock, earrings I think, and it feels like a piece of a short story (heartwarming or elitist, I’m not sure which). Were they a gift from a boy to a girl? Did she like them, and put them on? Hate them, and spurn the guy by chucking them into the lake?
I think there might be mystery hidden here, too, because even though those fish are so constantly jumping, I can never seem to get a good look at one. You have to just let it happen, I guess, and that means you need time, and patience. Maybe that’s what Minnesota could’ve been. Marry Jenn, buy a house, try to have kids with her, maybe adopt instead? Eventually move somewhere out west, but not quite with the energy I have now, middle age, wistfulness, depression mixed with responsibility. It would’ve been doable, but it would even have been pleasant. But I’m so, so glad I’m choosing this path, instead.
Ask me again in 6 months how I feel, though.
Why am I sitting crosslegged with a laptop, appropriately, in my lap, in a small Minnesota town, at 6 p.m., on the first day of a long trip? Shouldn’t I already be well into Montana, eating in a diner, making time, picking up pavement and laying it back down behind me?
No. No, I should be here, next to the lake, watching the ducks eye me annoyedly. MS word doesn’t believe that’s a word, but I know it is, and I know that you, dear reader, can parse its intent. Don’t try to pin down language (that’s my job, ironically), it’ll slip out from beneath you every time. Always in motion are the words, hmmm?It’s my third, fourth, fifth cross-country trek? I’m an old hand at it by now, sorta, but this is the longest and most free trip I’ll ever have taken, I expect. I’m repeating myself, but bear with me. I have nowhere to be except Portland, and that only because I picked it, seemingly at random. As a friend said, “you’re the only person I know who’s picked somewhere to live based on a website.” He’s not entirely right, but he’s not entirely wrong. Which can be said for everything else, too, I guess. But as I said, this is the longest I’ve ever taken (expecting) for a trip of this length, assuming my interest in the drive holds out; only half the country in twice the usual time: approx 1 week. Doesn’t seem like long, but when you’re alone on the road, it can be forever.
And when you’re hemorrhaging money. Okay, so I needed the spell check for that. Makes me realize that I’m a great d20 designer, and a pretty good writer, but a sub-standard, maybe standard, editor, at least of “normal” things. So it’s funny that that’s what grabs me so much. So, hemorrhaging money. Not so much, and not so badly. Let’s say, instead, that I am merely conscious of the fact that I am not currently making money, and that whether or not I make money from this point forward is entirely up to my own initiative, not up to any sort of external schedule, expectation, or employment contract. It’s a liberating, and at the same time burdening, feeling. I have adequate funds to get me there (there being Portland), and to live for a few months while seeing what’s what. But I remember well my problems when I moved to Minnesota and just kinda sat around, waiting for something to happen. Had to borrow money from Mom, and from a girlfriend . . . bad scene.Exciting possibility #1: being able to take time off when I want, for however long I want, to do what I want. Exciting possibility #2: being able to guide trips for one season of the year, or more.
Damn, I’m way, way smarter, now. Which I guess goes to show how much smarter I could still be. Good.
Okay, some pictures:
Notice the disconcerting way that Inky (the car in question) seems to ride low in the rear? The tires have a little phrase that says "max load 1515 lbs." My fingers are crossed.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/17757139@N00/223120585/
Creepy green skies in Fargo. Storm's a comin'.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/17757139@N00/223120586/
But oncoming storms and nearby lightning strikes can't stop KoA campers from their god-given right to use a swimming pool. If they don't swim whenever they want, the terrorists win! Sigh.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/17757139@N00/223122802/
Six o’clock is a special time. It’s the beginning of the evening. The last possible time that someone with a normal day job could think of as “part of the work day.” If you work nights, it’s a dying-on-the-inside time. It’s the time you’re starting to lose your evening, the time the sun is leaving you, the time that everyone else is starting their nights out.
It’s turning six o’clock as I type this, 6 p.m. on a Tuesday. But the day doesn’t matter to me, because I’m on vacation. A permanent one, possibly. The beginning of my freelance career. First step: turn off the goddamn grammar checker. Second step: wonder if turning off the grammar check is unwise, as it might make my freelance editing easier. Third step: decide to write non-professional stuff in another program, like wordpad, and leave MS word for the pro stuff.
I’m sitting on a dock in Alexandria, MN, on the first day of my drive out west. Bits about Alexandria: it’s a small Minnesota town, and somewhere inside, it symbolizes what I’m choosing against by leaving now, parting myself from so many cool people and potentially rewarding relationships. Not that I’d likely ever move to a place like this (at least, not in Minnesota . . . Ashland, OR, is a different story), even if I had decided to stay, but it sorta represents what Minnesota has. Nice lakes and parks; awesome amenities like trails and green spaces; a sense of community, of home. There are signs next to the paved bike paths along the lakes and parks, that say “no motorized vehicles except snowmobiles.” It makes me raise my eyebrows, a bit, but I frickin’ love that. There’s so much snow here (or was; global warming, etc., etc.) for so much of the year that they put up signs saying, essentially, “Snowmobile all you want, this way!” More observations: this lake is so ridiculously stocked with fish that one leaps up for bugs somewhere very close to the dock, say within 50 feet, every 10 seconds or so. I’ll grant you that they’re a little wary; they waited until I sat down and began typing to really start jumping. But when the fish are almost willing to jump into my hands and I’m just sitting here, I gotta imagine it’s pretty easy for a kid to catch some sunfish for his dad to clean and cook. And that’s just damn cool, the idea of a kid being able to help feed his family, gaining the confidence that comes with it. Last bit: There’s an empty jewelry box here at the edge of the dock, earrings I think, and it feels like a piece of a short story (heartwarming or elitist, I’m not sure which). Were they a gift from a boy to a girl? Did she like them, and put them on? Hate them, and spurn the guy by chucking them into the lake?
I think there might be mystery hidden here, too, because even though those fish are so constantly jumping, I can never seem to get a good look at one. You have to just let it happen, I guess, and that means you need time, and patience. Maybe that’s what Minnesota could’ve been. Marry Jenn, buy a house, try to have kids with her, maybe adopt instead? Eventually move somewhere out west, but not quite with the energy I have now, middle age, wistfulness, depression mixed with responsibility. It would’ve been doable, but it would even have been pleasant. But I’m so, so glad I’m choosing this path, instead.
Ask me again in 6 months how I feel, though.
Why am I sitting crosslegged with a laptop, appropriately, in my lap, in a small Minnesota town, at 6 p.m., on the first day of a long trip? Shouldn’t I already be well into Montana, eating in a diner, making time, picking up pavement and laying it back down behind me?
No. No, I should be here, next to the lake, watching the ducks eye me annoyedly. MS word doesn’t believe that’s a word, but I know it is, and I know that you, dear reader, can parse its intent. Don’t try to pin down language (that’s my job, ironically), it’ll slip out from beneath you every time. Always in motion are the words, hmmm?It’s my third, fourth, fifth cross-country trek? I’m an old hand at it by now, sorta, but this is the longest and most free trip I’ll ever have taken, I expect. I’m repeating myself, but bear with me. I have nowhere to be except Portland, and that only because I picked it, seemingly at random. As a friend said, “you’re the only person I know who’s picked somewhere to live based on a website.” He’s not entirely right, but he’s not entirely wrong. Which can be said for everything else, too, I guess. But as I said, this is the longest I’ve ever taken (expecting) for a trip of this length, assuming my interest in the drive holds out; only half the country in twice the usual time: approx 1 week. Doesn’t seem like long, but when you’re alone on the road, it can be forever.
And when you’re hemorrhaging money. Okay, so I needed the spell check for that. Makes me realize that I’m a great d20 designer, and a pretty good writer, but a sub-standard, maybe standard, editor, at least of “normal” things. So it’s funny that that’s what grabs me so much. So, hemorrhaging money. Not so much, and not so badly. Let’s say, instead, that I am merely conscious of the fact that I am not currently making money, and that whether or not I make money from this point forward is entirely up to my own initiative, not up to any sort of external schedule, expectation, or employment contract. It’s a liberating, and at the same time burdening, feeling. I have adequate funds to get me there (there being Portland), and to live for a few months while seeing what’s what. But I remember well my problems when I moved to Minnesota and just kinda sat around, waiting for something to happen. Had to borrow money from Mom, and from a girlfriend . . . bad scene.Exciting possibility #1: being able to take time off when I want, for however long I want, to do what I want. Exciting possibility #2: being able to guide trips for one season of the year, or more.
Damn, I’m way, way smarter, now. Which I guess goes to show how much smarter I could still be. Good.
Okay, some pictures:
Notice the disconcerting way that Inky (the car in question) seems to ride low in the rear? The tires have a little phrase that says "max load 1515 lbs." My fingers are crossed.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/17757139@N00/223120585/
Creepy green skies in Fargo. Storm's a comin'.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/17757139@N00/223120586/
But oncoming storms and nearby lightning strikes can't stop KoA campers from their god-given right to use a swimming pool. If they don't swim whenever they want, the terrorists win! Sigh.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/17757139@N00/223122802/